


SCRITCHEDY-SCRATCH

by thoughtsdemise



Series: Ghost of the Machine: Writing Challenge [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Ghosties, Gore, Horror, Physical Torture, Psychological Torture, Robot blood, Violence, Warped Reality (AU), Wishing for death, gotmwc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 17:04:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12586572
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thoughtsdemise/pseuds/thoughtsdemise
Summary: Hide, hide away in the dark until you are found again.





	SCRITCHEDY-SCRATCH

_Scritchedy-scratch._

_Scritchedy-scratch._

_Goes cat upon the door._

_Come let me in!_

_Come let me in!_

_For it's about to pour,_

_A rain of blood upon the floor._

 

Rodimus snaps awake, his vents heaving.  He turns on his side and empties his tank.  The putrid smell of half processed energon clogging his senses as he flops back onto his back to stare at the ceiling of his hand suite.  He digits his digits into the berth bad beneath him as his entire frame shivers violently.  His vision swims in static before he shuts off his optics altogether not wanting to watch the dark shadows on his ceiling shift again into a familiar pattern.

 

“Hard to watch it, isn't?”  A voice whispers sweetly into his audio as digits stroke over the expanse of his chest over his pounding spark.  Lips ghost over his audio in a lover's caress.  “Or has it become easier?”  The voice holds a hint of curiosity.  The hand on his chest becomes a heavy pressure, pushing the metal inward directly above his spark chamber.  “After all, it must have been an exquisite experience to feel oneself being ripped apart.  Did you enjoy his energon as you licked it from your lips?”

 

“Enough!”

 

Rodimus turns to slam his fist through the speaker's chest.  Instead it sails through the empty air to impact the berth with a dissatisfying feeling.  He screams and beats his head into the berth pad to make it all stop.  He presses his face into the padding but keeps screaming uselessly.  His spark wanting to rip itself from his chest.

 

As his screams finally die with his stressed vocalizer, a sound fills the ringing silence that makes him tense with fear.  Rodimus turns to look at his hab suite door.  Doing everything in his power to make his field disappear, but even he can taste the fear.

 

The scratching is soft and persistence.  A loving little meow reaches his audios before he launches himself off the berth to press into a corner, curling in on himself as the metal of the door bows inward.

 

_Scritchedy-scratch._

_Scritchedy-scratch._

_Goes cat upon the door._

_Come let me in!_

_Come let me in!_

_For it's about to pour,_

_A rain of blood upon the floor._

 

Rodimus chokes on his own screams as he is dragged down the dark hall.  His digits digging grooves into the floor.  His optics wide but unseeing in his terror.  Nails scratch the floor as he is easily dragged.  The fangs sunk into the soft metal of his ankle joint only tighten slightly when he is able to grab a door frame which he is easily yanked from.

 

His frame impacts with the wall, stunning him motionless for several long meters down the hallway.  He lofts his head to focus on the thing that is not there that is dragging him down the hall.

 

Having lost most of his capacity for speech, Rodimus utters senseless pleas.  He begs to be released, even of it to die.  His only answer is the soft scritchedy-scratching along the path with the screeching scrape of his metal behind it.  He sobs brokenly, already knowing where they are going.

 

_Scritchedy-scratch._

_Scritchedy-scratch._

_Goes cat upon the door._

_Come let me in!_

_Come let me in!_

_For it's about to pour,_

_A rain of blood upon the floor._

 

A door slides open at the end of the hall, and he is yanked violently into an airless void where not even his impact with the broken pieces of a counsel makes much of a sound.  He floats in the weightless space for a moment before curling around himself to shunt away the cold of space that has crept in through a crack in the haul.

 

“No.  No,” he utters to the emptiness about him that begins to shift and brighten with light.  Sound is always quick to follow.  The screams echoing in sickening vibrations that dog into his frame.

 

_Scritchedy-scratch._

_Scritchedy-scratch._

_Goes cat upon the door._

_Come let me in!_

_Come let me in!_

_For it's about to pour,_

_A rain of blood upon the floor._

 

He licks his lips, tasting the splash of energon coating them.  He hums in pleasure as he reaches into torn open frame to pluck out flickering spark.  He pets it lovingly.

 

“You flare, you flicker, you fade,” he whispers in a sing song way before his fist tightens about the spark that had once been Ratchet.

 

A blast pierces his side, but he only grins softly as his optics swing to Ultra Magnus whose internals lay strewn about him.

 

“Can't fix him all,” he murmurs sweetly to the goo that dribbles from his hand into the open cavity in Ultra Magnus’ frame.  He reaches forward as the blaster rifle aimed at his head clicks.

 

“Forgot to count the bolts in the clip.”

 

_Scritchedy-scratch._

_Scritchedy-scratch._

_Goes cat upon the door._

_Come let me in!_

_Come let me in!_

_For it's about to pour,_

_A rain of blood upon the floor._

 

Rodimus snaps awake, his vents heaving.  He turns on his side and empties his tank.  The putrid smell of half processed energon clogging his senses as he flops back onto his back to stare at the ceiling of his hand suite.  He digits his digits into the berth bad beneath him as his entire frame shivers violently.  His vision swims in static before he shuts off his optics altogether not wanting to watch the dark shadows on his ceiling shift again into a familiar pattern.

 

“Hard to watch it, isn't?”  A voice whispers sweetly into his audio as digits stroke over the expanse of his chest over his pounding spark.  Lips ghost over his audio in a lover's caress.  “Or has it become easier?”  The voice holds a hint of curiosity.  The hand on his chest becomes a heavy pressure, pushing the metal inward directly above his spark chamber.  “After all, it must have been an exquisite experience to feel oneself being ripped apart.  Did you enjoy his energon as you licked it from your lips?”

 

“Enough!”

 

Rodimus turns to slam his fist through the speaker's chest.  Instead it sails through the empty air to impact the berth with a dissatisfying feeling.  He screams and beats his head into the berth pad to make it all stop.  He presses his face into the padding but keeps screaming uselessly.  His spark wanting to rip itself from his chest.

 

As his screams finally die with his stressed vocalizer, a sound fills the ringing silence that makes him tense with fear.  Rodimus turns to look at his hab suite door.  Doing everything in his power to make his field disappear, but even he can taste the fear.

 

The scratching is soft and persistence.  A loving little meow reaches his audios before he launches himself off the berth to press into a corner, curling in on himself as the metal of the door bows inward.

 

_Scritchedy-scratch._

_Scritchedy-scratch._

_Goes cat upon the door._

_Come let me in!_

_Come let me in!_

_For it's about to pour,_

_A rain of blood upon the floor._


End file.
